Help, I'm alive.

A broken star is what you have become to exist as.

An extraterrestrial piece of nothing is what you tend to be.

You aren’t are a star because you illuminate the cracks in her broken bones.

You’re a star because you’re a trapped piece of cosmic debris.

And the worst part about you is the way you think you have to make every person’s wish come true.

Why are you absolutely incapable of letting a light diminish, if it means hurting a person you love?

Let the broken clouds soar and the confused adolescents cry.

Let her fuck up and drink herself to happiness. She’s drugged most of the time your with her, but on something you will never know.

She’s high on the desire to live for herself something you’ll never know.

Every time she sees a star she makes sure to let it go hoping one day you’ll eat in that meadow too.